


A Different Type of Love Doesn't Lead to Marriage

by starknight



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alfred doesn't cast away his grief uncharacteristically, Christmas, Everything works out like it should, Fix-It, Grief, NO ENGAGEMENT, Sadness, Sorry Drummond is still dead, Talking, Victoria Christmas Special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknight/pseuds/starknight
Summary: Alfred and Wilhelmina aggressively do not get engaged. That is all.





	A Different Type of Love Doesn't Lead to Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> I am way too angry right now and as a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community I would really like to lay a complaint with Daisy Goodwin and whoever else thought up the bright idea of sticking Alfred with Wilhelmina. I might do just that, once I've calmed down a bit. I literally sat down and wrote this about half an hour after watching the Christmas special, I just had to get out my emotions and feelings and thoughts and ARGH IT'S SUCH A BAD IDEA CAN YOU PLEASE NOT ITV VICTORIA WHYYYYYYYY I AM SO ANGERY
> 
> Okay anyway it's a bit sad but I hope you enjoy it with the sort of angry satisfaction that comes with fix-its.

Alone.

It was the only thing Alfred ever truly felt these days.

He would laugh at Miss Coke’s jokes and smile at the Queen, but there was nothing ever close to happiness within his breast. It had been only six months since he had lost everything… His darling Edward.

He still wore the black armband (underneath his shirt, of course) in remembrance. It wasn’t like he needed help to remember Edward, though. He could remember everything. The way he kissed, his soft scent, the feeling of Edward’s hands slipping through his hair and the way he had looked at Alfred, so heartbroken, at that disastrous dinner.

What Alfred wouldn’t have given to be able to go back and change time. He knew, in hindsight, that his actions were ultimately only leading to both of them becoming unhappy. There was just no way that either Edward or Alfred marrying a woman could have made either of them happy.

So it was something of a surprise, when at the traditional Christmas servants’ ball, Wilhelmina pulled him onto the dance floor most ungraciously. Alfred did, to his great surprise, have a little fun waltzing with her.

It wasn’t worth the wretched, heaving sobs the memories later had dragged out of him. He had sat in his bed, shivering with grief, trying not to think of Edward’s hands in his, jumping around at the Ceilidh that beautiful day. It was too much for any one person to bear.

_ Bloody hell, _ but that girl was persistent. And perceptive. Wilhelmina had come up to him quite unbidden in the corridor and pressed a small silver case into his hand.

 

“I thought you might like, a lock, of his hair,” she muttered, and without further explanation she took off down the hall. Confused, he opened it.  _ Surpassing the love of women, _ read the inscription, and a braided lock of hair filled the other side of the case. A lump rose in Alfred’s throat as he ran his hands over the hair gently, trying not to burst into tears in the middle of the corridor.

He was unsuccessful.

With his nose and eyes streaming, Alfred ran after Wilhelmina, shouting her name. When she turned around to see him, she immediately gave him her handkerchief again.

“Thank you,” he choked out, dabbing at his face. “I do seem to be borrowing them a lot.”

“Perhaps you should keep your own supply,” Wilhelmina teased gently, smiling. Her brow creased slightly as she scrutinized him.

“I… Thank you for this. I promise I am very grateful, my tears are only because… I miss him so,” he admitted. His voice broke embarrassingly on the last word.

Wilhelmina nodded sympathetically, rubbing his arm gently. “I know you do,” she said. Her eyes seemed to convey more meaning than either of them could express into words.

“Do you know, I think the Duchess of Buccleuch would quite like me to marry you?” Alfred said suddenly. He had been thinking about it for a while, and come to a firm decision. 

Wilhelmina’s eyes widened, but she did not seem terribly surprised. “... I think you are right, Lord Alfred. I would, however, be interested to hear your own thoughts on the matter.” Her eyes met his. They were hard and yet hopeful.

Alfred hated to be the one to squash her hope, but it had to be done somehow.

“Wilhelmina… You know that I love you, dearly. But there are different types of love. There is the love you have for your soulmate, your other half, the love that can never be replaced and never die even if the other person does-,” and here Alfred gave himself two seconds to breathe deeply and regain his train of thought, “- and there is the kind of deep, underlying love connecting two good friends. I like to think that is what we are, Wilhelmina; close friends. Best friends, even. You have been so kind to me, and I would like to thank you for that.” He smiled at her and paused for a moment, trying to figure out the nicest phrasing. “However… To marry you would not be a kindness to either of us. I would not be happy, for I would always be comparing you to my dearest Drummond, and you would not be happy, for you would build up a lifetime of resentment against me. Whatever the Duchess has in mind, she is misguided in the ways of men’s hearts; at least, the hearts of men such as I.” Alfred waited nervously for Wilhelmina’s reaction. Her face stayed blank and impassive all through his speech. When he finished, it seemed to relax.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed, her expression changing to one of utter relief. “The Duchess seemed so set on it, even though I should not think it is such a burden to be a maid the rest of my life! I tried to tell her, it would not make you happy, but she would not listen. And to think, we might have to have  _ children, _ just to keep up the pretense, and those poor children would have to be raised by us with all our problems and we wouldn’t even really be in love!” 

Alfred grinned at her, relief washing over him, too. He was extremely glad she had come to the same conclusion. The more he had thought about it, the more absurd the idea had become.

“I know!” he exclaimed. “We would have to go through all the social niceties of a marriage, and without even the benefits of enjoying it… On top of all that, it would probably ruin our friendship permanently.”

"It wouldn't do much for your memories of Edward, either... You would become quite traumatized, I fear," Wilhelmina said.

Alfred could do nothing but agree with her.  They smiled at each other and hugged wordlessly, glad to have reached an easy understanding.

After all, what kind of strange, twisted story would deign to force these poor misunderstood souls together in a marriage?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Daisy Goodwin, for the writing fuel. Next time I hope I don't have to fix your gay subplot.


End file.
